


Family Matters

by goldarrow



Series: Slave!verse [5]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/pseuds/goldarrow
Summary: Connor Temple has a coming-of-age.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures, not me. Unfortunately. Sigh. I mean no harm, I make no profit except satisfaction.  
A/N 1: This is set in my Slave!AU (Born Free, Taken, Returned), in which Lester owns a high-class whorehouse in a world where the descendents of criminals are enslaved as part of the punishment for their parents’ crimes. Stephen is one of the Indentured.
> 
> A/N 2: Part 1 is set about a week before Taken, Part 2 is set three months after.
> 
> A/N 3: Yes, keep an eye out for porcines performing stall-turns. I have written an entire Connor-centric fic in Connor's POV…

Family Matters

Connor Temple started to hyperventilate as he stood at the doors of the A-R-C and stared through the glass at the tastefully - and expensively - decorated interior. What the hell had made him think it was a good idea to celebrate his newly-minted doctorate in computer sciences at the most exclusive - and most expensive, he reminded himself, calculating his budget and savings for the third time in a week - sex house in town? He rocked on his feet, not sure whether to go in or run away.

Then the receptionist inside glanced up, grinned at him, and pointed at her watch. He took courage from her directness and obviously affable nature. And even though he didn’t incline that way, it didn’t hurt that she was very, very cute, with her platinum hair, heart-shaped face and tiny frame. 

After taking a few slow, deep breaths to try to get his nerves under control so he could just maybe avoid looking like an idiot, he pasted a smile on his own face and stepped through the automatic doors. He couldn’t help it, he stopped again and gaped, staring around in awe as the full effect of the client waiting area hit him. The paintings, the quality of the furnishings, the plants and decorative sculptures scattered around in a superficially random but actually well-organised arrangement all combined to completely boggle his mind.

He couldn’t help the whispered, "Wow," that escaped him.

"We're very glad you like it." The voice was feminine but not shrill, and contained not the slightest tinge of superciliousness or disrespect, just friendliness and a hint of teasing. 

Connor gulped and turned to look at the receptionist, who was still grinning. 

"Your first time here?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yes." He straightened his shoulders. His money was as good as the next man's, after all.

"Welcome to the A-R-C," she replied calmly. "I'm Abby, I'll be setting you up. Have you pre-filled your intake forms?"

"No," he said slowly.

"It's not a problem," she smiled at him as she attached forms to a clipboard. "Not many people actually do. So, are you here for psychological counselling or physical relief?"

"Um." He stared at her. It really made a difference?

"We have different intake forms for psychological and physical. You can fill out both if you know you intend to take advantage of both counselling and physical release at some time in the future, or you can fill out just one or just the other," she told him quietly as she handed him the clipboard. "The top one is for physical release, your personal preferences and requirements, etc. It's everything we need in order to get an initial match-up."

He was starting to feeling completely overwhelmed, now. This was a lot more complicated than he'd thought it would be. Not that he'd really had any idea how a place like this worked.

"The match is just preliminary," she assured him. "You'll still have a choice." Her smile widened. "But a choice between two or three is much easier than a choice between nine or ten. Besides, we need as much information as possible. If clients just pick from pictures, for example, we could end up giving a dominant whore to someone who prefers submissives. And that might end badly."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," Connor replied, getting her point. 

"And so, the survey. Unless you already know who you want to see?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

He shook his head, eyes wide. 

She made a quick notation on her computer screen. "The second form is the introductory questionnaire for psychological counselling, again so we can match you up with a list of possible therapists." She smiled, obviously having noted that he was still a bit lost. "Nothing is set in stone, for either questionnaire. If your tastes change or the result wasn’t what you expected at any time, you can just update your preferences."

He glanced around quickly and opened his mouth to ask one more question, but she forestalled him. 

"Every bit of information you give us is completely confidential. I don't even type it in, I scan the sheet directly into the system, and only the relevant facts are sent to your therapist," she told him seriously. "We have secure material storage for the hard-copies, and our computers are fifth-generation encrypted."

Fifth generation? Connor had to control himself to avoid drooling. The idea of playing with fifth-generation encryption almost made him want to beg for a job rather than a whore. Then he grinned. Who knew, maybe he could have both someday. He did have a doctorate, now, after all.

"Okay, just physical release for now, then," he said, and she nodded at the chair in front of her desk with a smile.

"You can fill it out here, or you can sit over in the lounge area, it's entirely up to you."

"Here is good." He dropped quickly into the chair and entered all of the information on the 'physical release' form as neatly as he could. He was much better at typing into a keyboard than writing. Most of the questions were easy: personal data, payment type, maximum acceptable price. Even choosing hair colour, eye colour, skin colour and how important each item was to him was easy. 

A few, however, did make him think a little. He never had actually considered whether he favoured someone who spoke quickly or slowly, or if he had a preference on accent, or if he liked freckles, or whether he preferred - was that really: 'Type of Navel, Protruding or Recessed'? Good grief! - and the section on his preferences regarding the whore's 'personal grooming' style made him blush. He had to bite back moans of embarrassment a few times, but he finally made it through and handed the clipboard back to Abby, feeling a bit as if he'd been put through a mangle. He took a surreptitious glance at the clock on the wall, wondering how much of his appointment time he was using up.

Abby took the clipboard and glanced quickly over it, obviously not focussing on any particular answer. 

"This is very complete, thank you, Mr… Temple?" she said, hesitating slightly, but before he could react or even really read anything into it, she smiled. "We always ask clients to arrive half an hour early for paperwork on the first appointment," she assured him. "Your time won't start until I take you back."

"Thanks." He was torn between embarrassment at being caught out, and relief that he wasn’t going to be wasting a lot of money. He shifted in his chair.

"it will only take a minute to scan this in. If you'll wait over in the client area, I'll bring a tablet with photos and stats of the currently available whores who most closely match your requirements." She waved over to the other side of the room where the comfortable-looking couches and chairs were grouped.

Connor's eyes automatically followed her gesture, and when he turned back to thank her, she'd disappeared. "Hm. Nice trick," he muttered, and wandered across the room to stare at the sculpture on the table against the wall. After a couple of seconds, what he was seeing actually registered, and he fought another blush. Wow. Who knew something like that was even possible?

The voice behind him made him jump, just a little. 

"I have a preliminary list for you. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you."

He turned to face Abby, hoping he didn’t look as gormless as he felt. He couldn’t help himself, he waved a bit blankly at the sculpture. 

"I was just - it's a little..." He floundered to a stop.

Abby subjected the sculpture to an assessing look, then actually put her hand to her lip and giggled. 

"That's certainly rather athletic, isn’t it?" she said as she led him over to the nearest couch. "I wonder where the artist got the idea from? I've never known anyone who could actually get into that position."

And once again, Connor felt better. He was beginning to see exactly why this place had such a good reputation. They seemed to excel in making their clients feel comfortable.

They sat side by side on the plush cushions, and she handed him a tablet with full-length photos of two men displayed side-by-side. They were nude but not aroused, for which Connor blessed every possible god, goddess and guardian angel that might be watching over him from every era in history and pre-history.

Abby patted his arm. "It's okay," she said softly. "I know it's strange the first time, but we just want you to be happy with your experience. Take your time. Paul is on the left, he's newer, so his price is lower," and when Connor's mouth dropped open, "but both Paul and Stephen are within the range you gave." Her eyes twinkled. "The maximum price you pre-approved made it really easy for us. So, thanks for that."

Connor grinned. "Been saving up for this for a while." He shrugged. "Turned 23, got my computer science doctorate in the same week. This is a celebration." He'd been so intent on getting through school so he could start earning money to pay his parents back that everything else, including learning his level of alcohol tolerance and anything more than the most basic sexual experimentation, had taken a back seat. He knew he was being rather a 'late bloomer', but that was why he was here. One of the things that had allowed him to earn a PhD at his age was that he always made sure to learn from the best.

"Wow, that's super, you must be really smart. And you must have started uni really young," Abby responded, then tilted her head to the side a bit and met his eyes. "May I make a suggestion? Since it's your first time here?"

Connor was almost surprised that he wasn’t embarrassed at her words. After all, they were talking about virginity in a sex house. But then, her phrasing was so tactful that anyone listening in wouldn’t be able to tell whether she was referring to him or to his visit. 

"Sure," he said as he stared at the two photos. They were both handsome, dark-haired and slender, but the one on the right was incredible. He also looked a little kinder, not so deliberately sexy as the other one, and Connor's stomach warmed and he nodded unconsciously when Abby's finger touched that photo. 

"Stephen. I think he'd be better for you. And I'm not just saying that because he's more expensive. He's our lead whore. He's amazing with first-timers. You're very lucky he's available this evening. He usually books up days in advance." She didn’t push him after that, just sat back and waited for him to scan through the personal information that was showing now that he'd chosen the photo.

"I like him," Connor said. "Thanks, yeah, that will be good." He swallowed and looked back at her. "What now?"

Abby smiled and stood. "First, we do the financial bit, then I'll take you back to Stephen. Will you want a shower?"

Connor shook his head. "No, no, I showered before I came." He wondered frantically whether he was smelly.

"It isn't required." She smiled as she led him back across the room. "We just give people an option in case they've come in after a long day. Some clients like to take a nice warm shower or bath to relax first."

"Whew," he breathed. "Scared me there for a second. Thought my nerves might have me ponging."

Abby giggled as she sat behind her desk and pulled out a payment pad. "Sorry. Honestly, I didn’t mean to imply anything." She looked straight into his eyes as he handed her his payment card. "You're fine. And your after-shave is really nice." Once she'd scanned it and received approval, she added, "And it's not too heavy, either. Stephen will appreciate it." 

Connor blushed as he tucked his card back into his pocket.

"Right," Abby stated as she pressed a series of buttons on the tablet she was still holding. "You're all set. I've notified Stephen, and he'll be waiting for us. Follow me."

Taking a deep breath, Connor obediently trailed her back across the lobby, into the corridor, and to the first door on the right. They stopped, and Abby keyed a code into the number panel beside the door.

At Connor's inquisitive look, she answered the unspoken question. "There are security codes on all the whores' rooms. It's for their protection. They know their codes, they're not locked in, but we don’t take any chances with the 'anti-Indentured' yobs any more. I don’t know if you heard about the attack last year?" 

Connor ran back through his memory, and a vague thought surfaced, "Yeah, I think I remember it. But no one was hurt, right?"

"Just scared." She looked pensive for a moment, then shook it off as the door slid open. "Go on in, and have fun." Her last words were spoken in an encouraging tone of voice. She patted his shoulder and left him standing outside with an entire squadron of butterflies doing stall-turns in his stomach.

He managed to force himself through the opening, but stuck right inside as if his feet had been glued to the floor. He managed a quick look around, noting the desk and comfortable chairs on the right side of the room, a shoji screen at the back past which he could see just the end of a bed, a fractal-like sculpture nestled into the rear left corner that he had to fight not to analyse, and a sectional corner-sofa in the angle to the left of the entrance. The door slid closed behind him as he remained frozen, staring at the man sitting on the sofa with an obviously just-abandoned computer tablet beside him. The whore was wearing a loose, long-sleeved tee and trousers in a dark chocolate silk that brought out the amazing cobalt of his long lashed eyes. He gave Connor a keen look, then smiled, and Connor wondered wildly why the lights didn’t blow out just from the heat of it. 

"Hi, Connor, I'm Stephen," the whore said, and Connor managed a nod.

Stephen stood and walked slowly over to him, and taking his hand, led him back to the couch. 

"I understand this is your first time," Stephen continued, and Connor nodded again as they sat. "Do you have any idea whether you'd prefer to give, or receive?" Stephen asked gently, and Connor finally got his mind's gears to mesh again.

"I - I think I'd like to give," he said, blushing a little but encouraged by Stephen's open expression. "I know I like guys, I've messed around, a few blow jobs, some mutual wanking, but I've never actually fucked." He took a deep breath, deciding that honesty might be the best policy. "I think it might be a little too much to be the taker the first time."

"Good thinking," Stephen responded. "Your input form says you're 23 and into computers, right?"

Connor nodded. "Went to uni at 15. Worked straight through to get the PhD." He shrugged. "Didn't have much time to fool around."

"If you only took eight years from start to finish to get a doctorate in computer sciences, I imagine you were spending most of your time applying yourself fairly heavily to your studies."

"Yeah."

"But you do know pretty much how this works?" Stephen asked, eyeing Connor with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile, and Connor surprised himself by laughing out loud.

"Yeah, me and my mates did have some pretty fun video nights."

Stephen laughed in return. "Well, internet porn can be a little over-the-top, but I think you'll enjoy what we do anyway."

Their eyes met, and Connor knew right away that he'd made the right choice of partner. He leaned forward and kissed Stephen, who froze for a fraction of a second as if surprised, and then responded, mouth opening under Connor's to let him explore. By the time he ended the kiss, Connor was resting against Stephen's chest, Stephen was half-lying on the couch, and Connor was seriously wondering where all the air in the room had got to.

"Wow," Connor gasped, sitting back up. "That was really nice."

Stephen grinned and stood. "Shall we adjourn to the bed?"

Connor nodded so hard he almost made himself dizzy. "Yes. Yes, please!"

Stephen led him past the screen at the rear of the room, and Connor looked around, surprised at the simplicity of the bed area. The furnishings consisted of a queen size bed that had an amazing black lacquer headboard with attached bedside tables, and two sets of shelves that were nestled against the shoji screen separating this area from the more office-type area in the front. The shelves held nothing more than a few books and decorative knickknacks. Other than those, there was only a sliding door that looked like it led to a bathroom. 

Idly wondering if that was where clients took the showers or baths that Abby had offered, Connor watched as Stephen turned down the brown coverlet on the bed, revealing pale blue silky sheets with some sort of shadowy stripe on them. Then he gulped a little. The sheets alone looked as if they cost more than his monthly stipend, and he stalled again.

"Let me," Stephen said softly, almost stalking back across the room, making Connor mentally compare his movement to that of panthers and other big cats.

Slowly, piece by piece, caressing him constantly, Stephen removed Connor's clothing and placed each garment, folded tidily, onto open spaces on the nearest set of shelves. Once Connor was nude and breathing hard, Stephen moved back and pulled his own tee over his head. He stood still for a moment, allowing Connor to look his fill, and then with a flick of his fingers he unhooked his trousers' catch and allowed them to drop onto the floor before stepping out of the puddle of chocolate silk.

Connor's mouth went dry, and he felt his cock grow heavy and hard.

Stephen lay down on the bed and held out his hand, and Connor stumbled quickly over to him, almost falling into the sheets beside the whore. He'd never been so ready in his life, and he just hoped he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by coming too fast.

Somehow, Stephen was proving to be a mind-reader, as he pulled the covers over them, leaned over Connor and started caressing him. Connor felt the warm lips beside his ear, and the warm breath as Stephen whispered, "Don’t worry. At your age, you'll recover in time for a second go if you pop quickly enough." 

He gave an evil grin and dived under the covers. Connor started trying to come up with the perfect word to describe the mouth that was sucking his brains out: campfire, oven, furnace, surface of the sun... He ran out of possibilities as he felt his balls tighten, then every muscle in his body seized up and he came. Hard. Hard enough that he was starting to wonder if he'd ever remember how to breathe again.

"Wow," he gasped. "That was fantastic." Then he shook his head. "But I really wanted to fuck you." He knew he sounded plaintive, but he couldn’t help it. 

Stephen chuckled. "That was just to take the edge off." He started stroking Connor, who was gobsmacked to feel himself twitching again.

"How?" Connor managed, concentrating hard to avoid having his eyes roll back in his head. 

'You're young, you're healthy, you're turned on, I'm really good." 

Stephen's tone was so smooth and regular that it took Connor a couple of seconds to catch the joke. Once he did, he burst out laughing and dropped his head onto Stephen's shoulder.

"Oh, my god," he chuckled. "You're crazy fun."

Stephen pulled back and smiled at him, then rested his head on one hand and watched as he gave a little twist to the fingers that were wrapped around Connor's cock, working to bring him back to fullness. By the time Stephen was satisfied with his progress, Connor had to exert every bit of control he had - not that he had a whole lot left - not to moan with every movement. 

"It's time for you to fuck me," Stephen whispered. "Would you like to be on top, or can I ride you?"

Every cell in Connor's brain melted at the mental picture that drew, and his eyelids drooped. "Too comfy. Can't move."

Stephen gently pressed him onto his back. "Then let me do the work." 

Hearing Stephen open the drawer on the bedside table, Connor cracked his eyes open and watched blearily as the whore pulled out condoms and lube and dropped them onto the sheets beside him. 

Connor closed his eyes again, letting himself feel every movement, every touch as Stephen slowly rolled a condom onto Connor's cock and added lube. By the time he was prepared, he was panting again, hips twitching unconsciously. Hearing another condom wrapper being opened, he lifted his lids to see Stephen applying it to his own cock.

"Just in case," Stephen leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Don't want to take a chance on making a mess."

Connor gulped. The idea that he might actually make Stephen come was the final bit of turn-on he needed. His hands came up and he held Stephen's hips as the whore straddled him and slowly sank down onto his cock, tight and hot.

"Oh, fuck," Connor moaned as he automatically thrust upward, making Stephen gasp at the sudden movement. 

Connor froze until Stephen shook his head. "Again, do that again," Stephen ordered, and Connor let go.

He thrust up over and over, digging his heels into the mattress to get the purchase he needed, and Stephen matched him move for move, sinking down as Connor thrust, and rising as the young man dropped down again. The heat wrapping him, the tightness squeezing him, the soft moans he heard as he hit someplace special inside Stephen, all combined to send Connor into another level of awareness, a place that contained only pleasure and nothing else until his second orgasm in an hour started at his balls and washed in waves of bliss throughout his body. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whimpered as Stephen sank down on him one last time and gasped, falling forward to press their bodies together. Connor felt Stephen's cock jolt between them and then sudden warmth against his belly as Stephen filled his condom with his own come.

"Oh, wow," Connor whispered, head spinning. "Stephen, thank you, thank you, that was amazing. Thank you."

Stephen kissed him softly. "Rest," he said, "I'll clean us up. We still have about 20 minutes to talk or play if you want."

Connor nodded, stretching out with his eyes closed. "I'd like that," he mumbled. He didn't even twitch when Stephen removed his condom and used a soft, warm flannel to wipe him clean.

He opened his eyes again to find himself sprawled half on top of Stephen under the covers. "How long did I sleep?" he demanded, lifting his head up to stare into the amazing cobalt eyes only about three inches from his own.

"Only about five minutes," Stephen replied without apology. "Your body needed to recover some energy. Now, sit up, and we'll have some cheese and grapes to refuel you."

Connor's eyes widened. "I've never tried those together," he admitted, and almost moaned when Stephen fed him a bit of brie and a red grape in the same bite. "Oh, that's fantastic. More, please."

Chuckling, Stephen fed them both, alternating bites between him and Connor. Once they were done, he leaned back against the headboard and eyed Connor consideringly. 

"What," Connor asked, torn between complete satiation and the sudden fear that he'd somehow done something wrong. "I haven't broken out in spots or anything, have I?"

"No," Stephen replied, "but I'd like to ask you a personal question, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," Connor shrugged. "I don't mind." Questions he could take. 

"On the data they send me from your intake form, I saw that your surname is Temple. Do you - do you have any Indentured relatives?"

Connor sat up with a jerk. "Oh, fuck, yes. My cousin Grace. She was a year older than me. They took her 'cause of my great-uncle about a month before I was born. I sometimes wondered where she was, if she was okay." He shivered. "What might have happened to me if she hadn’t been the older one."

Stephen stroked his shoulder. "With your brain, you'd be in the sciences no matter what."

Connor bit his lip, staring at Stephen, who was suddenly looking a bit worried. "You know Grace, don't you?" Connor asked.

"Yes. She works here. She's lead whore in her corridor."

Connor breathed out. "That's good. They said they weren’t allowed to let us know what happened to her. I'm glad she's in a first-class place."

He thought he saw a flash of an uncomfortable expression on Stephen's face, but decided he must have been mistaken when the whore smiled at him.

"Sir James Lester is one of the fairest owners in the city," Stephen said seriously. "We're lucky. All of us."

The end-of-session warning timer went off, playing a gentle baroque tune. Connor grinned and leaned forward to give Stephen one last kiss, then he tossed the coverlet over Stephen's head before clambering out of the bed. "Thanks, Stephen, for everything." 

By the time Stephen had unwound himself, sputtering and laughing, Connor had scrambled into his clothes. He stopped by the shoji screen and looked back at Stephen with a wide smile. The whore was sprawled in the bed with an encouraging expression on his face and a hint of pride in his eyes. Connor unconsciously straightened just a little.

"Take care of yourself, Connor," Stephen said.

Connor replied, "You, too," as he darted across the outer room and out through the door.

As much fun as that had been, he still wasn’t sure of the protocol for saying goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has to choose between his future and doing the right thing.

Connor sat back in his chair, staring alternately at the letter on his tablet and the notification of an email on his desktop PC. The letter contained an amazing offer for a job in the IT department at Ambrose Industries, and the email was from Stephen.

Setting the job offer aside for a moment on the theory that he already knew that it was good news, he opened the email and read it, nibbling on his lower lip.

From: stephen.hart@arc.org  
To: connor_42_what_of_it@londontel.com  
Re: Grace

Dear Connor, 

I hope this finds you well.

I spoke with Sir James about your cousin, and after checking with his solicitors, he has authorised me to give you this information.

Up until two years ago, Grace Temple was a whore at Hammer-Time, the leading sex house in Birmingham. She was injured in an accident and it left her with some scars. As I'm sure you know, we cannot have any visible scarring or skin imperfections in our line of work, and so her owner, as is usual in cases like that, put her up for sale. 

Sir James liked her record at H-T, and thought that losing such a talent would be a pity. He asked her if she would be willing to specialise in BDSM (the one sphere in which scarring is immaterial). You probably know already what BDSM is, too, but if not, I know you can find out. :)

She agreed, and in the last two years, she has worked her way up to lead whore in the BDSM wing. She is well and happy there. She's a very dominant character, so her new position actually suits her.

Sir James says that according to the lawyers, you are allowed to be in impersonal (email/phone/letters) contact with her, as long as you never actually see her as a client. I don’t think that will be a problem, as BDSM isn’t your thing in any case, is it?

All that explanation is just background to my actual question, which is: would you like me to give her your email address, so that if she's interested she can write to you? If you're not up to it, don’t worry, that's fine. She doesn't know anything about you yet. And even if I give her your info, she won't be required to contact you. So please don't think you'll be forcing her into doing anything she doesn’t want to do if you say yes.

Let me know what you think.

Regards,

Stephen

Reaching the end, Connor let his mind drift. He didn't know Grace at all, and he didn’t really know if she'd want any contact with him or any other members of her birth family. He did know enough about various types of survivor's guilt to know that her situation wasn’t his fault, but he still wasn’t sure how he felt about actually talking to her. 

Then he thought past his own discomfort. It might be nice for her to know that she had family out there who cared what happened to her. Even if they couldn’t help, it might be enough for her to know that she was remembered. He nodded to himself and hit the reply button.

From: connor_42_what_of_it@londontel.com  
To: stephen.hart@arc.org  
Re: Re: Grace

Thanks, Stephen, if she's interested I'd really like to write to her. I don’t want to push or make her feel bad, but I'd like her to know we remember her & that she hasn't been tossed out in our minds. Her parents (my uncle and aunt) still have her baby picture hanging on their entryway wall.

Connor

He punched the 'send' button before he could change his mind.

Still thinking about the email and its possible repercussions, he finished filling out the official acceptance form for the employment offer and stuffed it into its prepaid return envelope. Now, all he had to do was to pop it down to the post office, grab his friends Tom and Duncan, and go out for the biggest pizza they could find. As of next Monday, he was going to be an official employee of Ambrose Industries! He was still finding it to be a little unbelievable that it had been that easy. He'd only been job-hunting for the two weeks since he'd passed his viva, and here he was already set.

xXx

Connor Temple had actually had a job for three solid months now, and he still wasn't tired of it, which he reckoned might be a record for him. On the other hand, all his jobs throughout school had been annoying little assistant/gofer type jobs that were definitely not his forte. Now, at Ambrose Industries, he was a fully-fledged team member in their artificial intelligence development group, and the work was endlessly fascinating. 

After swallowing the last bite of his lunch - brie and grape sandwiches, a combination that he'd found almost addictive after Stephen first fed it to him - Connor yawned as he stretched out for a moment on his rented blanket, the grass of the park springy under his back. His lunch break was almost over. In about five minutes, he'd have to return the blanket and head back to the Ambrose Industries IT lab. 

He thought about his situation as he sat up again and started stuffing the empty packets back into his Doctor Who lunch box. He might not be tired of the work, but he was beginning to get a few uncomfortable vibes about the company itself. It was a century-old family business, always on the cutting edge of technology, but the current CEO was a woman named - what was it? Oh, yeah - 'Helen Ambrose Cutter Lester', and what a mouthful that was. Not to mention that she was a bit of a bitch in Connor's estimation.

He'd met Dr Cutter the day he was hired and hadn't really liked her much. She'd given him the distinct impression that she felt he wasn’t anywhere near good enough for her company and that she was doing him a huge favour by bothering to take him on. And according to various people who'd been carpeted by her and had exited those meetings pale and shaking, she could slice and dice even more effectively with words than any chef could with his knives.

Connor had heard that her first husband disappeared after they'd only been married a few months, and her second husband had just dumped her recently. Running back through the last few months in his mind, he dredged up the memory. That's right, it was two months ago that there was a company-wide message sent out that she was now to be called Dr Cutter rather than Dr Lester. 

"Wonder if that's why she's such a bitch," he thought. Then, by an association of memories, he wondered whether the Lester she used to be married to was the owner of the A-R-C. That would be fun. And sort of weird, that Connor would have ended up working for the ex-wife of the man who owned his cousin.

He finished folding the blanket and stuffed it back into its bag, then grabbed his lunch box and headed for the rental return drop-box at the park entrance. When he was halfway there, he glanced over at the public toilets, wondering if he needed a quick slash before going back to work. In the end he decided not, and was just looking away when he saw Stephen Hart walk out of the toilets, his artfully tousled hair, height and graceful manner of movement unmistakable, the gold and silver filigree of his Indentured tattoo shining around his neck. 

Connor raised his eyebrows and watched as the whore turned to head down the other path that led into the park. He hadn’t realised that the A-R-Cs whores were allowed outside, but right now that didn’t matter much to him, he was simply enjoying watching Stephen saunter along. 

Then he couldn’t help the way his muscles tightened up as Helen Cutter stepped in front of Stephen, seemingly from out of nowhere. Stephen stopped immediately and dropped his head, hands clasped behind him. 

Connor didn't like the look of this so he set his bag onto the ground and pretended to root through it, observing as Dr Cutter's eyes narrowed at Stephen, her mouth thinned, and she started speaking. He couldn’t tell what she was saying, but Stephen stiffened slightly, although his head remained bowed. The hands clasped behind him had tightened into fists, but weren’t moving, either.

The next thing Connor knew, Dr Cutter had slapped Stephen and called for the park police, who showed up within seconds to grab Stephen and wrestle him to his knees. Dr Cutter glared around at the few people within eyeshot, and Connor ducked behind a bush. The last thing he needed was to be called as an eyewitness. He had a nasty feeling that there was something more than just chastising an over-confident whore going on here.

Biting his lip, he stayed still and listened, glad their voices were carrying.

"He accosted me," Dr Cutter insisted, and Connor fought down a snort of derision. "He stopped me in the path, grabbed me and wouldn’t let me past."

"Any witnesses?" the older park policeman asked, and Connor peeked out to see most people close by shaking their heads.

Only one man answered, and he didn’t look in the slightest bit concerned. "No, the first thing I noticed was her slapping the Indentured one." 

"Well?" the policeman asked Stephen. "You have permission to speak."

"No, sir, she stopped me. I never touched her." Stephen's voice was shaking.

"He's lying," Dr Cutter said offhandedly. 

Connor wanted to run over and tell them Dr Cutter was the one who was lying, but he knew how these things worked. The word of the CEO of a huge company against the word of a lowly computer nerd, one who was still on probation at that same company? Yeah, that would go well for him. He almost stepped out anyway, but then he saw the head security guard from the A-R-C steaming around the corner at speed, with a look on his face that Connor wouldn’t want to have aimed at him.

That was good. The guy - Ryan, was it? Yeah, that was the name - would take care of it. From what little Connor had seen of him at the A-R-C, Ryan was scarily competent. He'd certainly made one hell of an impression on Connor that day, and they'd barely had any interaction at all.

"Oh, crap," Connor whispered as he suddenly caught sight the time on his watch. He was going to be really, really late getting back from lunch. That was not good. He grabbed his stuff and ran for the gates.

Arriving back at Ambrose Industries ten minutes late, Connor bit his lip as he was berated by his supervisor. Once Dr Page was finished with her lecture, though, she grinned at him.

"Not to worry, Connor," she said cheerfully. "That's the canned speech I have to give to any probationer who's tardy. You've been here for three months, you've put in overtime whenever we needed you, and this is the first time you've been late at all. And for someone your age and with your lack of experience in the work force, that's so excellent that I'm not even going to put this into your record."

Connor almost fainted in relief before a sudden thought hit him. "Um, will it affect my chances of being hired permanently if you do put it in?"

She stared at him, looking shocked, then shook her head. "No, not at all, but for a first time offense from an otherwise excellent employee, I don’t really see the need to write it up."

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, still running possible scenarios through his mind.

"Sure, sit down." She dropped into her own chair and pointed at the one next to it.

"I saw something at the park today, that's why I was late back. And just in case I get called as witness or something, I don’t know, but wouldn’t it be better if there's a record that I wasn't here? So it's more possible I did see what I saw?" Connor shook his head. "Oh, man, I'm so bad at getting things out. They're straight in my head, but my mouth just doesn’t connect."

"It's all right." She patted his hand, brown eyes understanding. "I know what you mean. Even if it's not on the official record, I can confirm that you weren't here."

Connor grimaced. He didn’t want to take a chance on getting her into trouble, too, just in case. "Maybe better not."

Dr Page sat back and examined him. "It's someone powerful," she guessed, and he winced and nodded. "Right," she said briskly. "Ts crossed and Is dotted, then. I'll write it up as a first time warning, extenuating circumstances, no reprimand. That should do it."

"Thanks," he whispered. "I hope I don't need it, though." 

"Go, go… get back to work." She waved him out with a smile.

He might have got back to work, but he didn’t actually get much work done. He spent the afternoon worrying. If he had to go up against Dr Cutter, there was more than a good chance that he'd lose his job and probably his reputation and any possibility of supporting himself in the future. Damn it. He might even end up Indentured just like Grace.

From everything he'd heard, Dr Cutter was a boss who demanded total loyalty.

"Please, please, please," he whispered as he removed his lab coat and hung it in his locker that evening, preparatory to heading home. "Please let someone else have come forward."

xXx

The next morning, he checked the court news-feed on his tablet, and almost burst into tears. No one else had come forward, and with Dr Cutter's word against Stephen's, the Indentured man hadn’t had a chance, even with the backing of the very scary Ryan, who unfortunately wouldn’t have seen anything.

Judgement for 20 lashes. 

Connor remembered what Stephen had told him about whores needing to be clean-skinned, unscarred. Why Dr Cutter was doing this to Stephen, he didn’t know, but he just couldn’t let it happen. He phoned in to work.

"Dr Page, I'm not going to be in today." He thought about lying, but decided to just go with the truth. It couldn’t make anything worse. "The thing I saw yesterday? No one else has said anything. I have to go to the authorities."

Her sigh was audible down the line. "Be careful, Connor," she said seriously. "And good luck."

"Thanks," he muttered, "I'm going to need it."

xXx

Three hours later, he knew he needed more than luck. He'd gone straight to the park police, and they'd listened to his story and sent him straight to the City Constabulary. He'd told his story, then told it again, and then a third time before someone who looked as if he might be much higher in the food chain than Connor had ever wanted to meet walked in.

The man might seem unassuming with his simple grey suit, slightly thinning brown hair and pleasant face, but the high intelligence in his brown eyes was obvious. As was the controlled fury. 

Connor sighed. He was fucked.

Then the man smiled and held out his hand to shake. "DCI Charles Hemingway," he stated briskly. "I've read your statement, and I'd like to confirm a few things with you."

While shaking hands, Connor got another look at the fury and realised with relief that it wasn’t aimed at him. He took a chance and asked plaintively, "Can I get something to drink? I've been talking for almost three hours, and I'm really dry."

Hemingway blinked. "Certainly." He turned to the officer standing behind him. "Get Mr Temple a glass of water, please."

The officer nodded and left.

Hemingway sat across the table from Connor and waved him back to his seat.

"You stated that you recognised both Stephen Hart and Helen Cutter. Can you tell me how you know them?"

"Yes. I, um, I went to the A-R-C three months ago. To celebrate my doctorate. I saw Stephen."

"Congratulations on your doctorate." Hemingway nodded for him to continue.

"Thanks. And Dr Cutter is CEO of the company I work for now."

"That seems as if it might be a trifle awkward," Hemingway commented.

"You don't know the half of it," Connor muttered.

Hemingway chuckled. "I have met her," he said dryly. "And that's why we're being very careful about everything we're doing."

"Will it be in time for Stephen?" Connor burst out. "They're going to lash him."

"They won't carry out the sentence today," Hemingway assured him. "Physical punishment takes place a minimum of 48 hours after sentencing to allow time for clemency pleas."

"Oh, good." Connor blew out a breath. "Good."

"So, how is your relationship with your employer?"

Connor shrugged. "I get on great with my team and my supervisor. Haven't had much contact with anyone else."

"Dr Cutter?"

"Only in orientation when I was first hired." He shrugged again. "We don’t see much of her in the labs."

Hemingway nodded and made a note. "Now. You stated that you saw some other people at the park that might have witnessed the scene." He waved another police officer into the room. "Can you describe them for our forensic artist?"

"Sure." On that subject, Connor was really sure of himself. He'd made mental notes of everyone he saw. "This is what they looked like," he started, and the officer sat and pulled out her pencils.

After a solid hour of describing the other witnesses and correcting the drawings, then another three hours of waiting, Connor was reduced to lying across the table with his head resting on his folded arms. God, he was tired. Seven hours, he'd been here, and he hadn’t even brought his tablet to play with. 

Then DCI Hemingway walked back in, and he almost jumped to his feet.

Hemingway waved him back to his seat. "We found the other witnesses," he told Connor. "Three of the five also saw what happened, and they have confirmed your statement." Shaking his head, he sighed. "I do wish people weren’t quite so reluctant to come forward. We almost punished an innocent man."

"Yeah. But he's just Indentured," Connor said bitterly. "He means nothing to most people."

"You sound as if being Indentured is something personal to you." Hemingway cocked his head questioningly. 

"Yeah. My cousin is Indentured." Connor shrugged. "I've been allowed to email with her. She's nice. She's a person."

Hemingway nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes. They are." He stepped back and opened the door. "You can go home, now. We won't need you any more."

Connor stood, but hesitated. "Will I need to testify in court or anything?"

"No. Your sworn statement and the corroborating statements from the others have already been enough for the judge to rescind the conviction. Stephen will be going home this evening." He hesitated for a second and then added, as if in warning, "And Dr Cutter is going to be fined for perjury."

"Just fined?" Connor grimaced.

"Yes. But the fine for perjury is rather large. She's not going to be happy, Mr Temple."

"I know," Connor sighed. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be looking for another job by tomorrow afternoon."

Hemingway patted him on the back. "I know it's not much of a consolation," he said gently, "but you did a very good thing today."

"Yeah." Connor dredged up a smile. "I did. Thanks, sir."

"And the same to you, Mr Temple." Hemingway opened the door and waved to the officer outside. "PC Banfield will escort you out. Go home, get something to eat, get some rest. Everything will look brighter tomorrow."

"Sure," Connor sighed, then added internally, "Like that's going to happen."

xXx

"I'm so sorry, Connor," Dr Page said sincerely. "I was notified this morning that our department is over-budget, and we have to slim down the team."

"And my job is the instant weight loss, right?" Connor did his best not to feel bitter. He'd made his decision, now he had to stand behind it.

"Yes," she said unhappily. "The word came from above." She glanced around, then whispered, "I know it doesn’t help, but if I'd had my choice, it would have been the other probationer, not you. I'm really going to miss you."

"Thanks, Dr Page," Connor said, holding back tears of anger and sadness. "I'll get my stuff."

She hugged him. "I'll have your final paycheck." She snorted. "And I insisted they pay you for your hour this morning."

Connor couldn’t help it, he grinned. He was going to miss her, too. Dr Page was really too good for this place.

He gathered his things into his backpack, said goodbye to his team (who were all in a state of shock that mirrored his own), picked up his cheque, and walked out of the front door with his head up and his shoulders back.

Once he was out of sight of the door, he sighed and let his shoulders slump. Now he just had to work out how he was going to get another job when he probably wouldn’t be able to drag a reference out of Ambrose Industries with a tow-truck. Maybe he could get Dr Page to write him one unofficially. 

His mind in a haze as he tried to think of any possibilities, he wasn’t watching where he was going very closely. He ran straight into another man and tripped, almost going flat. The man grunted and reached out, catching him and setting him back onto his feet.

"Damn it," Connor cursed. This was being the worst day ever.

"You okay, mate?" the man asked, and Connor managed to look at him and the man with him. They looked friendly enough. At least they weren’t yelling at him for his lack of attention. Then he saw the tattooed collars. They were Indentured, not that it made any difference to him. 

"Yeah, sorry," Connor muttered. "Just lost my sodding job for doing the right thing. I'm not in the best of moods right now."

The man blinked, looking surprised. "You're Connor Temple?"

Connor braced himself, wondering how this stranger knew his name. "Yeah, what of it?"

"It's great, that's what. I'm glad we caught you so fast. Thought we were going to have to hunt you down." The man grinned at him. "My name's Tony, this is Mitch, and we work in the IT department at Tomlinson Accounting. Sir James Lester called our boss and said he thought you might be available. We have an opening in the R&D section, working on the design of a new encryption method - I think they called it sixth-generation, right, Mitch?"

The other man nodded. "Yep."

"Sixth?" Connor almost squeaked. "Sixth? I'd give my eyeteeth to work just with fifth! And they want me to help design a whole new level? Holy shit!" 

He knew he was hyperventilating by the amused look on Tony's face and the concerned look on Mitch's.

"So, I guess that means you're in," Tony stated, steering Connor to the car waiting by the kerb.

"Oh, I'm in," Connor stated happily as he took his seat. "Oh, mate, I am in."

He made a mental note to thank Sir James for the opportunity, and probably DCI Hemingway, too, because there was no way Sir James would have even known who Connor was without a nudge from the detective.

Maybe doing the right thing wasn’t going to land him in the soup, after all.

He leaned back and watched the buildings go flashing by on his way to what looked like it was going to be a fascinating - and if the interaction between Tony and Mitch was any indication of the corporate culture - and fun future.

Fin


End file.
